


Rain or Shine

by OKami_hu, oksammich



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: rotg_kink, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oksammich/pseuds/oksammich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a Dreamwidth kinkmeme prompt. Sanderson is a prince and Pitchiner is his bodyguard. Mutual interest is turning into something solid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain or Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the prompt [is here](http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/1511.html?thread=607975#cmt607975). Piece is co-authored as per usual.

Pitchiner knows he shouldn't.

But, over the last few weeks, he's found himself drawn to the mute prince with the sunny smile and gentle eyes.

So he smooths one long, pale hand through the prince's rain-soaked hair, and ignoring the mud, just.. leans in and presses their lips together.

And in response, Sanderson's golden eyes flutter shut, his sweet, plush lips part and his tiny fingers splay out over the broad chest.

He feels a tiny hiccup against his mouth, then the sweet little prince is sobbing softly; he is, too, and their hot tears meld with rainwater to roll down into the mud underneath them. He holds the little prince tight, warm lips whispering sweet nothings only lovers can understand as they comfort one another beneath the weeping sky.

But the sky can't cry forever, and Kozmotis finds himself staring into warm golden eyes. There's a smile on those delicious lips and the words take form right inside his mind: "You saved me. Thank you!" And there is a kiss of gratitude, short arms wounding around his neck and some more hot wetness against his cheek; and the kiss subtly changes, into something more, something deeper and darker.

His mouth parts, as if he is to express his surprise, but there come the soft lips again. He holds the prince tight, folding himself over that smaller form to keep him shielded from the rain. He wants to pull away as he feels little fingers press against his skin. He wants to taste, to find out whether the prince is as sugary sweet as everything else about him. His tongue swipes over those delicate nubs, and he sighs, squeezes, and gently catches the lower lip between his teeth.

The prince's breath hitches and a sweet scent tickles the bodyguard's nostrils - something akin to sweet milk with cinnamon in it. A taste spreads on his tongue - sugarplum, clearly, and more cinnamon. The tiny fingers sink into his hair and Sanderson's tongue curiously prods against Kozmotis' lip in exchange. The whisper in his mind is so quiet he barely registers it. "Please... please."

The request is so innocent, so heartfelt, that it nearly takes the place of all reason. He wishes to do as he's asked, to give himself over to this little fae with his warm skin and a mouth like sugar. Kozmotis parts his lips, but there is little patience to be had in the gesture; in the next moment, he is devouring that sweet little mouth, greedily lapping at every decadent taste he can find on the small, nimble tongue.

The rain quiets to a tame spray, a ray of sun breaking through the clouds. The air fills up with the scent of wet earth and the fight's evidence melts away; the disturbed soil and the carcass of the shadow monster. Under the tree, the prince's plump little body presses against the General's and their tongues entwine in the ancient dance. Sanderson is more than willing to share himself with this man he adores, birthrights and rank be damned. Pitchiner's mouth tastes clean and fresh, like springwater and the young dreamer drinks deep to finally quench his thirst.

He's always been so afraid of doing harm to the prince, viewing him as some priceless treasure to be admired and cared for, but never touched. Never used. Yet, General Pitchiner touches him now, emboldened by the silent cries of their desires. He holds him by the waist, one hand tangled in golden strands at the nape of his neck, and he pulls him close, as if he wishes to possess him. The General sinks back to sit, taking the Prince with him to settle over his lap. "You've only to push me away," he murmurs, and samples the curve of his soft neck with lips and teeth and tongue, "I'd never hurt you.."

The elaborately sculpted dreamsand suit crumbles away, baring Sanderson's chest and shoulders. "I know," he whispers without a sound and tilts his head back, to leave more room for the questing lips. "I have wanted this. You are like the ocean, and I wish to drown." His hands map out the bodyguard's sharply angled face, fingertips brushing against his temples, his brow, his prominent cheekbones. "General- Kozmotis. Kozmotis, my beloved protector..." The man's mouth finds the hollow of his throat and only Pitchiner can hear the resulting gasp.

There is a mournful sound, joy, fear, and sorrow all escaping in one soft breath, and it dies against Sanderson's skin. His long fingers slide underneath cloth like they have always belonged, beneath his soft tunic and up over tummy and supple chest. He cannot wait to feel skin on skin-- will not wait. Kozmotis marks him. His teeth and lips defile flesh, and as he feels the beautiful skin bruise at his insistence, heat fills his stomach and spreads outward to undo him. This proud, certain General Kozmotis Pitchiner trembles as he battles with the ties on Sanderson's ruined tunic.

There's a breathless chuckle and the garment falls off, revealing milky skin with just a touch of golden hue. Sanderson can't wait either; it is not fair, in his opinion, that only the General is allowed to kiss; so he launches at the man's neck, lapping up the salty taste the sweat of battle left. Just like the sea... The prince kisses the ear of his bodyguard - lover, he reminds himself and his heart flutters from joy. Kozmotis is his lover, and Sanderson will be his, and he wants to have everything this could possibly mean.

He thanks the lad with reverent kisses to his chest and stomach, but is stopped soon enough by an eager mouth and wickedly talented tongue. He isn't as skilled in the art of disrobing so quickly, and so he sits back as far as he can to struggle with the layers of fabric dividing them. Pitchiner is strong, earning muscle and scar alike through the art of war, and he wears it proudly. One hand curls around the Prince's wrist and pulls it down to his chest, so he may touch and feel to his own desire. "Radiant as the morning sun," he murmurs, a palm moving as well to cup his budding manhood.

The answering giggle dies at the touch, because the sensation is so intense, it's almost scary. The prince is not a complete stranger to pleasure, but it still surprises him with its forceful grip. Heat flares up in his belly and the fire spreads and makes him tremble slightly. He needs to hold onto something, so he holds onto Kozmotis, stroking his broad, smooth chest, mapping out scars and hard planes. "Slowly," he begs and steals a kiss from those fresh-tasting lips.

He is understanding, not too surprised to find Sanderson so uncertain. It warms his serious face, teasing it to a soft smile as he pulls the young Prince to stand. The boy may be shy, but Pitchiner is determined to enjoy him completely. He takes kisses to every inch of skin he can see, lips over smooth thighs, to the soft curve of his hip, then finally, to the delicate skin just above his waking arousal. "Do you trust me..?" He glances up, eyes sincere even as his tongue wiggles out to memorize the taste of his youth.

The golden eyes flutter shut for a moment, the soft chest heaves with a deep sigh - then Sanderson looks up and nods. He is not uncertain, even as a slight pain flickers in his belly. The heat rises, making his heart beat faster and his body tenses, skin flushing, small member rising like a sapling straining upwards toward the light. His kind doesn't grow hair aside on their heads, nothing obscures the eager piece of flesh.

He holds it aloft between his fingers, like it's the most delicious treat he's ever laid eyes on. He peppers it in kisses, from the gleaming tip down to the base, and with his free hand, cradles his smooth jewels. They are kissed as well, then licked with gentle flicks of his tongue. Pitchiner has never taken another male before, but decides to go with what he thinks feels the best. Thumb settling beneath the head, he eases skin back to bare the glans, then wraps them snugly in his mouth, to suck light and soft.

A gasp echoes loudly in his mind; the prince bucks his hips instinctively, but his length is too small to choke his lover. The General’s tongue almost feels too much; the sensitive organ twitches, liquid dribbling from it. Tiny fingers fist into dark hair and hold on for dear life; Sanderson tries his damned best to fight off the rising pleasure. He doesn’t want it to end too soon, because the sensation is addictive and he wants to feel and feel and feel.

The encouragement is exactly what he needs to continue on with gusto. The liquid on his tongue is sweet as liquor from a filled chocolate, which he swallows back by the mouthful. As soon as he accustoms himself to the feeling of the full length, he takes it completely into his mouth. His lips work in soft, loving kisses at the base, while his tongue rubs him with slow, unobtrusive strokes. He's never considered himself as one to even entertain these thoughts, yet the feeling of the young Prince Sanderson against him is all too right. He cups his small testicles and rubs them, lips sliding back and forth over his length in a steady rhythm.

The grip on his hair turns into a light tug, not painful, just a delightful reminder. The prince lets his head roll back and his eyes drift shut to concentrate on the wonderful feeling. His lips part to allow him to suck in enough air, because he feels short on it. Every move of his lover's tongue sends another shiver up along his spine. "K-Kozmotis..." the name tastes sweet in his mouth, it's the first time he can call he man by his given name. "I- I'm not going to last... It's too good."

He strokes Sanderson's stomach with the flat of his hand, soothingly rubbing back and forth to let him know it's all right. His eyes are heated, meeting the gaze of his beloved Prince where he pleasures him from the moist ground. Kozmotis pushes forward then, nose and lips at the base of his penis, throat and mouth working to wring every drop of release from his charge's body. He doesn't fear it--he wants it.

The gasping breaths actually make a sound and the prince's back arches and as if on command, he comes, his entire body shuddering from bliss. His skin literally glows - it's hard to see in the growing light, but it does as Pitchiner drinks the stream of his release. It is sweet, mellow, much like the young dreamer himself. As the flow subsides, Sanderson feels as if his bones have turned to water; he desperately holds onto his lover's neck to keep himself upright. The orgasm stole his strength, and he's swimming in contented bliss, unable to think coherent thoughts or even to move.

His long fingers press into the softness of Sanderson's skin, likely marking him with violence he doesn't deserve, but the General cannot find it within himself to let up for a moment. His climax is beautiful--subtle and deliciously sweet across his tongue and down his throat. Perhaps he is a bit too zealous in using his tongue to milk every last drop from his body. Perhaps he is too demanding, too expectant of this small male. It feels right, though. Just as right as pulling Sanderson down against his chest to hold him, to stroke his bare back and smooth sweaty strands from his little face. "Easy, highness.. easy.."

The most brilliant smile flashes at him in response. His mind is filled up with a torrent of words and even emotions, all of them singing of gratitude, love, satisfaction and joy. The prince nuzzles the side of his face then kisses Pitchiner slowly, without hurry. It takes a little while to recover from the wonderful shock, but soon, Sanderson looks up with a serious glint in his eyes. "And you?"

His first instinct is to dismiss him. What would a Prince know about pleasuring a partner? He could end up frightening the lad, yet he finds himself intrigued by the sudden maturity shining through the childish face. General Pitchiner -is- a man, and proof of his interest manifests itself patiently against the back of Sanderson's small thigh. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't desire your touch," he replies softly, taking the boy by the wrist so he can feel the shape underneath Kozmotis' trousers.

The prince gasps in startled awe. He never thought... Okay, to be honest, a few times he thought of having his lovely bodyguard as a lover, kissing him, touching him... But the reality exceeds any fantasies. He’s so solid and real, regal presence grounding the young dreamer firmly. And that- thing beneath his palm... Sanderson shivers as he maps out the shape. He can feel the heat it radiates, and it feels every bit as majestic as Pitchiner himself.

“It feels so big...” The prince looks up, eyes wide and sparkling with just a hint of mischief. It becomes more prominent as his nimble fingers attack the fastenings on the general’s trousers.

“All thanks to you,” he replies in his earthly voice, though the final word is swallowed up by a breathy moan. He doesn’t realize how wound up he truly is until he feels the first breath of humid air on his manhood, followed by a brush of skin to the very tip. It leaves a glistening trail up the front of Sanderson’s forearm as it breaks free to stand proud at attention. He is certainly proportioned nicely, with his manhood just as long and firm as the rest of him. His testicles are swollen, large against his body, and there at the base of his pale skin is a bramble of dark curls. “Some parts of me do not wait for orders, I am afraid.”

The laughter is mute but rings like golden bells inside his mind. To hear something like that from a proud soldier who leads armies to battle every other time is definitely strange - but it makes Sanderson proud. It’s proof that his feelings are being returned. For so long he thought Pitchiner would never want him.

He concentrates on the handsome erection. It’s probably not intimidatingly thick, but the prince is small; his hand can barely encircle it. He measures the shining tip poking out from the skin - will he be able to fit it into his mouth...? He decides to try. He slowly pries the skin back and places a kiss on the very tip, then he proceeds to wrap his lips around it while his tongue moves against the slit.

He is expecting the warm hand and even anticipates the gentle kisses, but when there is sudden slickness against him, it takes all of his years of discipline not to buck up and lose himself right there. Pitchiner isn’t overly thick--an elegant size, he likes to think--but he never once expected the young prince to give him this treat.

Long fingers thread through Sanderson’s hair, slipping it away from his face so appreciative eyes can watch the decadent scene before him. Determination and joy are etched into so innocent a face, lips stretched wide as they struggle to take him. And for all of his eloquence, the mere sensation of heat shooting straight to his spine leaves him only able to gasp breathlessly: “...oh..”

Sanderson blinks up questioningly, not being able to determine if that single sigh means good or bad. But the bodyguard’s face is calm and relaxed, half-lidded eyes sparkling with lust, and the prince is reassured. He tries to take in as much of the hard flesh as he can - which isn’t much - and decides to go for quality instead of quantity. His sweet tongue traces the slit on the head, flicking against the base of it and he attempts to suck.

His eyes slide closed in bliss--he knows he cannot bear to watch while this innocent vision so eagerly step along the path of depravity. To please him is one thing, but to take from him is another thing entirely. Yet, he cannot find it within himself to just pull away, to thank him with a chaste kiss and try to salvage what little remains of their respectable bond. Instead, he sucks in huge lungfuls of air while that nimble, unspeaking tongue works him apart. The motions alone are pleasurable, tenderness swiping over raw nerves until stars explode behind his eyes, but coupled with the knowledge that his beloved Prince wants only to please him, Kozmotis is left shaking with his knees spread.

His hands wrap in gossamer strands and pull lightly, just so he’ll know that Pitchiner will take more if offered.

And he gets more. The prince’s small hands work on the shaft, squeezing it carefully, but with enough force to make it pleasant and his lips make the most lewd, wet noises as he services his bodyguard like some commoner. For somebody who is supposed to spin pure dreams, he sure doesn’t look innocent right now... but whatever he does is fueled by honest affection. Sanderson releases the flushed flesh and rubs it against his cheek. He reaches for the testicles curiously, to roll them around in his hand like precious crystal marbles. They feel heavy.

The young dreamer glances up. “Can I... do it better, somehow?”

The loss of contact tears a sob of desperation from his throat, which morphs to a low, pained moan as he opens his eyes to the sight of his reddened manhood against the precious cheek of beloved Prince Sanderson. Heat twists in the pit of his stomach, and he swallows hard to keep himself under control. “Nnn..” It takes a few moments before he remembers how to speak. “No, it.. feels really good..”

Skill and experience mean little to Pitchiner now. He feels like a god before the young prince, with soft skin against him and the attention of this powerful dream-weaver focused squarely on him. “I’m close,” he chokes out, his cheeks darkening at the admission, “You’ve a gift for this.”

He is almost blinded by the brilliance of the response - eyes sparkling, milky cheeks flushing red-gold and a smile as radiant as the brightest stars. The prince wastes no time to return to his task, he is not planning on torturing his beloved. He guides the erection back into his mouth and doubles his efforts, using all his knowledge to chase his bodyguard into the sweetest frenzy.

It doesn’t take long at all. The hand in his hair tenses and pulls hard enough to jerk Sanderson’s mouth from his arousal, as dear General Pitchiner has just enough sense of mind to know it’s likely he won’t enjoy the fruit of his efforts. He does, however, press the head against the outside of his cheek, feeling naught but silken flesh as his orgasm tears through him. There is quite an impressive amount of hot semen, which sprays over the Prince’s soft cheek and gathers in heavy strands along his jaw. “H-haa..!”

The golden eyes grew wide and the glistening lips are still parted - the prince is not sure what to make of this. But he is momentarily distracted by the expression on Kozmotis’ face. It is near impossible to catch him off guard, so relaxed, even vulnerable... And Sanderson’s heart melts. This is only meant for him, he’s the only one who can behold how the general’s defences fall away.

He pets the twitching manhood and stays still until the spasms subside; only then does he wipe the pearly liquid from his face. He glances at his fingers, coated with white and before he knows, he’s tasting it curiously.

There’s bitterness and salt in the aroma - quite different from what he likes, but it is bearable. The prince thinks, this is how seawater must taste, and the thought backs his earlier idea about the general being like the ocean. Secretly, he looks forward to drowning in his kisses and embraces.

“Ah.. bless the stars!” Pitchiner swears softly, his head falling back so he can sigh in enjoyment. “I never expected my liege to do such a thing.”

He slides his fingertips under the boy’s round chin and tips it upward, hungrily sliding his tongue inside of his mouth so he can taste his own essence on that sweet little tongue. Their lips connect hungrily, wet sounds that are nearly drowned out by his frenzied breathing. The prince isn’t protesting though.

He smiles still, cupping his lover’s face gently. “Don’t call me like that when we’re together,” he pleads sweetly. “Call me by my name. I’d like to hear it from you.”

His lips curl into a smile that warms the air around them, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an expression Sandy knows to be joy. “Prince Sanderson Mansnoozie,” he murmurs, and his voice is as rich and beautiful as a song, “Does that please you?”

The prince pouts. Not with much conviction, but he does. “Not like that. Like you’d call a lover.”

The General inches closer, then wraps both arms tight around his prince. He hoists him up as if he weighs nothing, then presses his lips to the swell of his cheek. “Sanderson.. my Sandy.” His long fingers slide into Sanderson’s hair, soothing over his scalp. “Now your turn.”

The soft whisper fills up his mind, like the sunlight that filters through the leaves, erasing the last of the rain.

“Kozmotis... My Guardian.”

 

~End~


End file.
